


Suzanna

by evieplease



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Food, Older Woman, Recovery, Sex, Smut, death of spouse, ended relationship, hotel room, spring day, transpacific flight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9857672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieplease/pseuds/evieplease
Summary: Just another girl in a cafe story, with a Tom so exhausted he can't see straight.





	1. Chapter 1

Suzanna sat at a table on the patio of the cafe at the riverside, tapping away at her laptop, surrounded by her research materials and reference books scattered over the table, some open and fluttering in the light spring breeze, pages held open by whatever paperweights came handy, her plate, her coffeecup, etc.

It was a beautiful late spring morning, the sky a deep shade of azure, with the odd puffy white cloud drifting along. Her table sat on the patio deck in dappled shade, and the light breeze ruffles the new spring leaves of the chestnut tree that shades the patio, setting little flecks of sunlight dancing over her back. Suzanna has been at her work for about an hour, totally absorbed and oblivious to the occasional joggers and dog walkers that pass the railing of the patio as they make their way along the riverside path in the warm spring air. She’s oblivious to the river as it slides by, and oblivious to the patrons who come to drink their coffee and chatter to each other at the other tables.

Suzanna is a striking woman, tall and slim, with completely silver hair that hangs in a long straight tail down her back, almost to her seat. Silver, that is, except for the inch wide blue/green streak coming from her left temple and trailing down into hair held back by a green ribbon low between her shoulder blades. Her face is younger than her silver hair would suggest, but she’s still an obviously mature woman, smile creases at the corners of he eyes, frown marks between her brows, a little softness under her otherwise firm chin, lips thinner, no longer plump with the fullness of youth. She’s wearing all white, denim capri’s, a scoop neck tee, covered over with a gossamer knit aqua wrap, so light that the handkerchief hem occasionally flutters in the light breeze.

She reaches for the cup of coffee at her elbow as she continues to concentrate on her writing, sipping delicately and setting the cup down in a sudden burst of typing.

A few moments later a shadow falls over her in the dappled light and someone clears their throat.

“Do you mind if I share your table? The others are full…”

She glances up, startled at the tall figure beside her, and quickly around at the other tables scattered around the patio. They are indeed all occupied, she hadn’t even been aware of the arrival of all these other people.

“Oh! Yes, of course! I’m sorry for taking up so much room! Here, let me clear a space for you!” She scrabbled amongst the papers and books, stacking and setting aside, concentrating on clearing a space.

“Don’t trouble yourself, darling, I just need to sit for a bit in the chair here. Thank you so much.”  
“Oh, okay,” vaguely wondering if he usually calls strange women ‘darling’. Her focus pulled away enough to notice the British accent and the lovely voice and she finally looked over at him. He was tall, with miles long legs, sprawled in the chair next to her, sneakers on his long feet, blue jeans, a rather sheer gray-blue v-neck tee, and a black shawl-collared knit cardigan. Sun glasses on a patrician nose, slim lips, light scruff and red-gold hair curling around his ears, a baseball cap shading his face.

"No problem.” she said and turned back to her work, reaching for and opening a well-thumbed annotated worlds of Shakespeare.

“What are you working on?” he enquired quietly.

“Hmm…? Oh, yes. I’m working on my doctoral dissertation.” she said, not looking up from her search for the required passage in the book.

“Oh, yes? What’s your field of study?”

“Oh, umm, I might be a Doctor of Philosophy one day, if I can just wrestle this into coherency.” She snorted lightly. "That ought to qualify me for a lucrative job as a taxi driver…"

He chuckled lightly. "And the Shakespeare?“

At this last she looked up at him and bristled slightly, narrowing her eyes.

"What, you don’t think old Will was a philosopher?”

“Oh yes, of course I do! His are the definitive works on the human condition, don’t you agree?” He scrambled to wave off her misapprehension. 

“Damn straight.” she muttered as she turned back to her work. He left her to it at that point, taking out his phone and checking his messages. His eyes occasionally strayed to her as she worked, admiring her concentration amid the minor hubbub of the cafe. At one point a breeze sprang up, catching in the long tail of board-straight hair trailing down her back, lifting a few strands and streaming them out to her side, the floating strands nearly fluttering into his lap, silver flashing in the dappled sunlight. He stared at her, utterly captivated by the streaming hair. 

He yawned wide, his jaw nearly cracking. He was so tired, having just got off a transpacific flight just hours ago. He hated those international flights, he’d been unable to do more than doze lightly on the 18 hour flight, and on top of that he’d been up for nearly 24 hours before boarding the aeroplane. He sighed and yawned again. When he’d got to his hotel at 9 am, he’d discovered that his room was not yet ready, it still being occupied by last night’s tourists, and no other rooms available. He wanted nothing more than to find a flat space on which to pass out for a solid sleep, he was gagging for it. But there was nothing for it but to find somewhere quiet to occupy himself for several hours until his room was available. The desk clerk had assured him earnestly that his room would be ready by 1 pm. That’s how he’d ended up here at this little cafe by the river, a few blocks from the hotel, drinking tea and being hypnotized by this lovely woman’s hair streaming toward him on the spring breeze.

She stirred absently and brought a hand up, gathering her hair behind her neck and smoothing the wind-caught strands back into place, sitting back from her work and pinning it between her chair and her back. She reached for her cup to find it empty and made a slight moue of annoyance. She looked up at him and her brow creased as she looked, feeling a nagging familiarity at his face. But she was sure that she didn’t know him, so she dismissed her thought. She spoke.

“"I’m sorry, could I ask you to hold the fort for a few moments while I go in?”

“Certainly.” he said, and smiled at her. That white smile…

“Um, I’m going to get a refill on my coffee, would you like another tea?”

He glanced at his cardboard cup with the lid on it.

“How did you know…?”

She smiled gently. "I can smell the bergamot. Earl Grey was it?“

"Um, yes. Thank you.”

She stuffed her laptop into the messenger bag at her feet and stood, turning away with the bag on her shoulder. 

"Back in a few…" she smiled, and strode away.

Once she disappeared inside he gave in to his curiosity and looked at the materials she had spread across the table. He recognized the Shakespeare, of course, but there were also one or two books that he was familiar with from his own university studies. He picked up the book on Greek philosophers with a small nostalgic smile and thumbed briefly through it, carefully holding her place with a long finger. He sighed and set the book gently back in it’s place. In his exhausted state the words had just danced in front of his eyes, making no sense.

She reappeared at the table shortly with a tray bearing her coffee and his tea, along with a plate of small pastries.

“Here you go. Thanks for watching my stuff. It would have been a huge pain in the ass to pack it all up again just for a quick trip inside, but I can’t leave this all unsupervised, in case of errant winds or small children redistributing them all over the landscape! I brought you some pastries in payment.” she smiled, indicating the plate between them. 

“Delighted to be of service!” he smiled at her, reaching for the pastries. "Thanks for this. I’m so tired I forgot to eat!“ He yawned before biting into the danish. She settled back into her chair, taking a few minutes with her coffee before going back to her work.

"Why are you so tired, if I may ask?” scrutinizing him. He did look tired, slumped back in his chair, his face a bit drawn. He swallowed the last bit of pastry and pulled his sunglasses off, sticking the stem down the front of his tee, and answered with the tale of his long flight and occupied hotel room. 

“I’m Tom, by the way.” he said, holding out a hand in introduction.

“Suzanna” she returned, extending her own long fingered hand and clasping his briefly.

“Oh!” The penny dropped at last. She laughed. "I was half expecting you to introduce yourself as Henry!“

He blushed and smiled, pleased.

"You’ve seen The Hollow Crown?”

“Oh, yes! Terrific production! You were very good.”

“Oh, thank you, darling. It’s always nice to hear good feedback.” He grinned at her.

She grinned back at him.

“And I got called ‘Darling’ by Henry Plantagenet! I swoon, sir!” she put the back of her hand against her forehead melodramatically. He laughed.

“I’m sorry you’ve been so inconvenienced on your first day in our little town. I hope your stay goes better…” she smiled.

“Do you know, you apologize nearly as much as I do? I’m sure the delay was not your fault! I appreciate you allowing me to share your table. It’s quite peaceful here isn’t it?” He glanced over the river.

“Yes. That’s why I’m here working. Somehow I get less distracted when I’m around distractions. It’s too quiet at home these days to concentrate…’ she trailed off pensively.

"Oh?” he murmured questioningly.

“Oh, yes. I never knew the silence of solitude could be quite so cacophonous.” she said sadly.

Tom made a quiet noise of agreement.

She shook herself slightly and set her coffee down.

“Well, once more unto the breech, dear friend!” she smiled brightly, and turned her attention to extracting her laptop from her bag, powering it up, and finding her place in the work.

His smile lingered as he watched her for a few moments, then checked his watch, sighing as he saw that he still had another two hours and more before he could crawl into bed at last. He yawned again and was mildly amused to see her unconsciously mimic his yawn, not breaking her concentration on her work. He slipped his sunglasses back on, as he settled back in his chair, sliding down in it a little more, extending his long legs under the table, crossing his arms over his chest, and tipping his head back to rest on the top of his chair back. He let his eyes drift closed behind his sunglasses. It’s lovely and peaceful here, he thought, listening to the river, hearing birds twitter in the trees, and the breeze sighing, watching the shades of yellow and red on the inside of his eyelids as the sun dappled through the trees onto his face… he drifted off to sleep.

Suzanna was so absorbed in her writing that time passed without her notice, until the sun crept over the shade tree and began to shine onto the screen of her laptop, making it hard to see the words she was writing. She looked up with a huff of annoyance, and her eyes fell onto Tom, noting with amusement that he had clearly fallen asleep. His hat had fallen off his head, lying underneath his chair on the patio decking. The sun was in those lovely red-gold curls, and shining on his face, picking out the glint of red beard stubble on his cheeks. She regarded him a moment, taking the opportunity unobserved, to appreciate his beauty, and the innocence of his face while he slept.

She checked the time on her laptop. Three hours had passed, much to her shock. She needed to stand and move a bit, she’d been sitting too long. She decided that she’d better pack up and haul it home, the sun was flooding the patio and she wouldn’t be able to work here any longer. Besides, the sun on the back of her head was making her too warm and sleepy to continue to work. She packed up her books and papers, piling them into the backpack under the table. Then she stood staring at Tom, undecided, chewing her lip. She supposed she really couldn’t just leave him sleeping here. With the sun on his pale face, he’ll burn and freckle pretty quickly. 

She crouched down next to him and put her hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking him.

"Tom? Tom, sweetie, wake up, it’s time to go. Tom?” in a low voice near his ear.

He stirred and mumbled a bit. She reached down and retrieved his hat, carefully replacing it on his head.

She tugged on his hands. "C'mon, sweetie. let’s get you into your bed.“

Tom blinked and looked up at her dazedly. He found himself looking directly into a pair of soft green eyes. He lifted a hand and touched her cheek. Her eyes widened, she backed up a bit, and she said more briskly, "Come on, Thomas! Get a move on! I’m taking you back to your hotel, now!”

He blinked again, and more awareness came into his face.

“Oh, uh, right. Sorry. Uh, what?”

She laughed a little at him.

“Ok, up you get!’ and she hauled him up by his elbow. Stronger than she looks, this woman…

She got him standing, but no sooner was he was upright than his eyes started to slide shut again, and he swayed dangerously on his feet.

"Dammit, Thomas! Stand up! I can’t carry you, and damned if I’ll try! You’ve got to move your own feet! I’ll get you up to your hotel, but you have to cooperate here! Right?”

He mumbled and managed to hoist his eyelids up half way and stand nearly on his own.

She slid her shoulder under his, and pulled his arm over her own shoulders, running her other arm around his waist.

“Ok, now, are you with me, Thomas?”

“Yes, Mum.” he muttered.

She snorted. "Ok now, march!“ and she hauled him along with her, guiding him out of the park to her car, staggering under him like a couple of drunks. She managed to fish her car keys out of her pocket and push the unlock button on the key fob. Reaching the car, Suzanna pinned Tom upright against the car with a hand firmly against his chest, her body pressed against his weight to keep him upright, and with her other hand she managed to wriggle her bags off her shoulder onto the ground at her feet.

Seriously?? she thought to herself. I’m plastered up against one of the hottest actors in Hollywood, and he’s not even conscious! Damn. Well, at least I can’t be accused of pedophilia! He’s well over-age, even if he is young enough to be my son! Not that I’m ever going to tell anyone about this- including him! Still… nice pecs, she thought with a smirk. Really nice.

Suzanna carefully maneuvered him into the seat, and shoving his head down to his chest as he folded into the car, managed to mostly not knock him brainless on the car roof as she pushed him in.

"Tom, lift your feet, get in the car!” she hissed, and then huffed, seeing that he was already completely out. She pulled his legs up by his trouser cuffs and swiveled his legs in, one by one into the footwell. Then she pulled the safety strap across his body and clicked the belt into place. Carefully stepping back and watching him to make sure that he wasn’t going to topple into the door as she shut it, she got the door securely closed. Then she picked up and slung her bags into the back seat. She quickly moved around the car and got in on the driver’s side, sighing and rolling her shoulders, glad she hadn’t had to carry him farther. She was definitely going to feel the strain tomorrow! 

Suzanna sighed and started the car, glancing over at her erstwhile burden to check that he was ok. His head had fallen back against he headrest, and a little snore issued forth from him. Oh damn, that’s just too damn cute… Don’t ogle the boy, Suzanna, she told herself. You’d be mortified if it was you, and you’d hope that he would have the courtesy not to ogle you! Of course, that wouldn’t be an issue, given how old she was. Damn, now she’s going to depress herself… Glancing sideways as she drove, she consoled herself. He may look like an infant to her now, but he sure looked like a grown-ass man when he played Henry V! She wrenched her eyes forward onto the road. Nope, nope, not going there!

Suzanna pulled to a stop four blocks later in front of the hotel, shut the car off, and went around to the passenger side. Opening the door carefully and leaning across him to unbuckle the seatbelt she felt him stir. He breathed deeply as if scenting her, and nuzzled her hair.

“Mmm..” he groaned quietly. 

“Okay… still not going there!” she muttered to herself. 

“Tom! Thomas! C'mon boy, get yourself…UP!” She yanked at him, hauling him out of the car. She squealed as he started to topple over on top of her, but fortunately right into his ear, and that apparently woke him enough to pull himself straight before he knocked them both onto their asses. His eyes came open, and he blinked fuzzily at her.

“Are you with me, boy?” she asked. "Thomas! You’ve got to walk! You’re almost there, not much further!“ She hoisted his arm back over her shoulder and wedged herself under his arm again.

"C'mon, baby, walk for me… People are going to think we’re both blotto in the middle of the day if they see us staggering around like this.” She muttered more to herself than to him as she glanced around, and was relieved that no one was in front of the hotel at the moment. Last thing either of them needed was photos posted on the internet of the Old Lady and Tom Hiddleston…

She painfully hauled him in the door and over to the front desk.

“Thomas! Wake up! What’s your room number?”

He mumbled incoherently. She sighed and maneuvered him to lean against the counter, once again pinning him upright with her body weight.

“Can you please tell me Mr. Hiddleston’s room number? He’s asleep on his feet, as you can see, and I can’t get a clear word out of him.”

“Well, Ma'am, I, I’m not sure…” the clerk stuttered.

“Look, you can see that this is Mr. Hiddleston! Someone checked him in this morning…”

“Oh, yes! I did. And I had his bags sent up to his room as soon as it became available !” the infant clerk said, proudly.

“Great! Now, about that room number? And could you please cut him a new key card?”

"Um, a new card? I don’t know…” he trailed off uncertainly.

“Look, son,” Suzanna said, giving him her best 'mother’ face, “either cut him a new card for me to use to get him into his room, or you can fish around in his pockets looking for his current card! Then you can explain to his lawyer why you were intimately molesting him in his sleep!”

She heard a tiny snort and glanced at Tom. There was a small smile barely curled in the corner of his mouth, so he must have been at least somewhat aware of his surroundings.

“Yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball!” she growled in his ear. Another tiny snort.

The clerks’ eyes had widened at her threat, and he hurriedly proceeded to cut the new card and give her directions to Tom’s room. Good thing he wasn’t inclined that way, or her threat might have sounded more like an invitation to feel up Tom Hiddleston, lawyers be damned!

“Oh, and I left my car in the drive. Can you have someone move it to the parking lot? Thanks!” She unceremoniously dropped her keys on the counter in front of the clerk.

Sighing, she once again pulled Tom’s arm over her shoulders and keeping up a litany of encouragements and threats and curses in his ear, she hauled him into the elevator, once again pinning him up against a solid surface with her body and a plea to stay upright, as she pushed the button for his floor.

“You couldn’t be 5'3” and a hundred and thirty pounds, could you?“ she grumbled. "Oh, no, you have to be 2 miles tall and weigh more than my goddamn car!” 

She rolled her shoulders, grousing quietly, “…and I’m going to send you my chiropractic bill, see if I don’t!” as she rolled her shoulders again. She was leaning back against him to keep him upright against the elevator wall, and her movement brought her into full body contact. He gasped into her ear, and his arms came up around her. Suzanna didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Well, at least he’s standing a bit straighter… 

The elevator opened and once again she maneuvered him into a semi-carry, groaning. 

"Jesus! I’m going to need a nap myself after this!“ she growled. A few shuffling steps down the hall and she swiped his key card through the reader, pushing the door open and shuffling him over toward the bed, letting the door swing shut behind her At last! She walked him backwards to the bed and tried to lower him onto it, but when he felt himself falling he instinctively grabbed onto her, and she fell on top of him, swearing softly.

"Fuck! Dammit, Tom!”

She wriggled out of his arms, and stood looking at him and catching her breath.

“Right,” she muttered, “let’s get you up there properly.”

She pulled each of his legs up onto the bed with a grunt.

“Ok, shoes off, and your belt, then you can just sleep in your clothing! How is it that each of your legs weighs more than they do together?” she wondered aloud.  
She got his shoes off, setting them together by the bed, and then reached for his belt. Just as she got the buckle undone, his hands came up and grabbed her wrists, pulling her down.

“Eep!” she squeaked. "Let go, Tom!

His only response was to tug her over his body and then roll them both, coming to rest with her on her back, and himself lying snuggled up against her side, with his arms firmly around her. She looked up into his face, but he appeared to be entirely unconscious.

“Tom, come on now, let me go!”

“Mmff…” he mumbled, tightening his arms around her and throwing an impossibly long leg across hers, effectively pinning her.

“Thomas!” she rapped out, “Let me go!” No response.

“Thomas…” she brought out the big guns, “if you don’t let me go this instant I'll…I’ll tell your mother!”

Still no response. Except a sigh and a little snore.

Suzanna huffed, struggling to get loose, but the more she struggled, the tighter his grip became. He was wrapped around her as if around his favorite teddy-bear.

“Alright, Tom. I’ll stay for just a bit, just let me breathe…” Still no response.

“Tom?” she whispered, “Tom, you’re hurting me, please…”

His grip abruptly loosened. Not enough to allow her to roll away, but at least she could breathe. She sighed and relaxed, thinking that she’d wait for a bit, and slip away when he was more deeply asleep. She managed to toe off her sandals.

Suzanna woke abruptly, snuggling into the warm body at her back, clasped loosely in his arms. But after a moment, a brief blissful moment, she remembered. It’s always like this when she wakes, the remembering, remembering that he is gone, died 8 months ago. A spear of grief went through her, as it does every morning. But if not her Matthew, who is holding her so gently?

She turned her head to look over her shoulder. Oh, hell. Yep, that’s Tom Hiddleston. Crap. She slowly and carefully eased out of his arms, and crawled off the other side of the bed. Man, she had to pee… 

She quietly padded into the bath, shutting the door carefully, and relieved herself, hoping the flush wouldn’t wake him. She washed her hands, looking into the mirror. Her hair was a mess, but not a just-fucked mess, so she could keep at least some of her dignity. She sighed and dried her hands, then did the best she could to retie her hair and straighten her clothing. She glanced at her watch. Damn, she’d actually slept for 2 hours!

Suzanna quietly exited the bath, leaving the door open a crack so that he has some orienting light in the room when he wakes. She crossed to the desk, grabbing a pen and a sheet of the hotel stationary.

Tom-  
Hope you feel better after your sleep. I expect you’ll be pretty hungry when you wake. The sidewalks roll up around 9 pm here in our little town. I’ll feed you if you come by. Don’t worry about the hour, I’m pretty much an insomniac these days. Call me at 555-1530 for directions, I’m only about 6 blocks from here.  
Here’s your spare key card.  
Suzanna

Leaving the card and the note on the bed next to him, she slipped from the room, with a last glance back at his sleeping form, dropping the Do Not Disturb sign over the door handle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grief, sorrow, food.

Tom surfaced slowly to the waking world, drifting languidly into the dim light, he took a deep breath and stretched his spine, arms and legs, circling his shoulder joints, elbows and wrists to bring some blood flow back. He must have slept hard, he mused groggily.

He opened his eyes and saw the light coming through the bathroom door, wondering vaguely where he was. It was not a new sensation, waking in a strange place, not knowing where in the world he is, but it is still a bit disconcerting nonetheless. He sat up, noting that he was still in his clothes. Ugh. He hated sleeping in his clothing. At least his shoes were off. …And his belt unbuckled?

He got up and blearily made his way into the bath to have a pee. It was while he was standing there getting rid of a what felt like 2 or 3 litres, that his memory surfaced. He remembered the last three days, Singapore, the transpacific flight…he knew where he was, and why. He remembered the snafu with his room, and he remembered Suzanna of the spun silver hair and classics textbooks.

Then his memory got very hazy. He remembered drinking tea and watching her work. He remembered chatting with her. But he had no recollection of getting from the riverside back to the hotel and into this room. Had he been drinking? He didn’t think so. Tom felt normally groggy after a hard sleep, not hungover. He shrugged and washed his hands, thinking it would come to him in time. He walked back into the bedroom, turned on some lights, and peeked out the curtains to find it full dark outside.

Then his eyes landed on a paper and a key card on the side of the bed. Aha! A clue! Tom smirked, reached out for the note and read it. Ha. She must have brought him back to his hotel, then. But why had she been in his room? He wasn’t actually in the habit of inviting strange women, women he’d just met- no matter how captivating their hair, how smart, or how amusing he found them- into his hotel room within hours of meeting them.

That way lay trouble. Trouble of a sort that he’d experienced enough at the beginning of his stardom, trouble that he learned to avoid… Right. He read her note over again.

Suzanna was right in at least one respect, he was quite hungry. Getting his toiletries out of his bag, he went into the bath, started the shower and stripped off, mulling over her invitation. Stepping under the hot spray of water, he let it wash away the grime of travel and the remnants of sleep. He lifted his hands to wipe away the water streaming over his face when the penny dropped. Oh shit.

He had a hazy memory of her talking into his ear, telling him he had to walk, whispering imprecations, cajoling him, growling at him. He remembered the feel of her shoulder under his, propping him up, moving him forward. Promising him a bed and blessed sleep. Swearing at him. Sweet talking him. Calling him sweetie and baby…and horse’s ass? Moving his body. Caring for him. Taking his shoes off. Trying to remove his belt. Clutching her as he fell. Refusing to let her go, refusing to release her sweet smell, clinging to her and wrapping her in his arms. His eyes flew open wide. Had he frightened her or hurt her in any way? Oh no. No. No. What an appalling way to thank her for her help. Shit.

He scrubbed his face, and reached for the shampoo. He clearly had some apologies to make, he’d better come up with something good. Tom washed and dried himself, went out to the bedroom, and opened his bag in search of clean clothing. He chose a pair of slacks and a decent button down blue shirt, folding the sleeves over his forearms.

He sat down on the edge of the bed to make a plan. Clearly he owed this woman for her kindness and for the care had she taken with him. Tom picked up the room phone, calling down to the desk.

“Is there any place I can buy flowers at this time of night?” he asked the desk clerk after identifying himself.

“Sure Mr. Hiddleston. There’s a 24 hour grocery with a small floral department. Or… well, my sister owns a floral shop nearby. I could call her and ask if she’d be willing to open for you… ”

“Oh yes, fantastic! That would be wonderful if she could do that for me! Please do call her? If that’s alright? And by any chance, do you know where I can get a decent bottle of wine at this hour?”

"Of course. There’s a liquor store only two blocks down from the hotel, they’ll be open for another hour or so.”

“Thank you! You’ve been very helpful, Brian. I’ll check in with you about the flowers when I get back from the shop, shall I?”

“Sure Mr. Hiddleston, no problem.”

Tom rang off, grabbed his keycard and wallet and sprinted out the door and down the stairs. He stopped at the desk briefly to get directions to the liquor store and walked briskly to the shop. It was a nice cool spring evening. Well, night really. He checked his watch, 10:30 PM. He was going to take Suzanna at her word, that it didn’t matter how late it was. He spoke to Suzanna, accepting her kind invitation, and got directions, asking if there was anything he could bring for her. She assured him that she had all she required.

Tom enjoyed the walk through the cool spring night, the stars above so very clear, and the full moon illuminating his path. The light of the moon so clear and bright turned everything into a black and white image, edges sharp and shadows clear. The air was softly cool, but not cold enough to penetrate his open jumper.  
Carrying the bottle of wine and large mixed bouquet of flowers in shades of pink, he found the house that was his destination. Faint music came from the well-lit house. Stopping at the gate, he smiled to himself at the cliché. She even had a white picket fence with climbing roses! He admired the Arts and Crafts cottage at the end of the walkway. The moon shone down on a front garden in full spring bloom with daffodils and tulips, lilacs and primroses.

Glancing from the moonlit garden to the bouquet in his hands, he snorted a little. "Coals to Newcastle, mate!” he murmured. Ah, well, with luck she’ll appreciate the gesture… He opened the gate and walked onto her garden path, closing it quietly behind him.

The front light was on, casting a welcoming warm glow over the porch at the top of the low steps. There was a porch swing swaying just slightly and a couple of white wicker chairs gleaming in the moonlight. The music was much more audible as he stepped up to the door, Tom could hear the tune clearly now. Michael Jackson ‘The Way You Make Me Feel’, the bass clearly felt thumping through the doorway floor boards.

There were two low clear glass windows on either side of the door covered by sheer white curtains, but as it was light inside and dark outside, he could see clearly into the house when he looked. Susanna was inside, wearing blue jeans and a pale blue blouse, her feet bare, swaying and dancing to the music. Tom paused a minute to watch her as she rocked her hips, raised her arms and threw her head back, losing herself in the beat. He was captivated.

After several minutes the song ended and Tom stepped back from the window. He thought he ought to feel a little sketchy for peeping on her like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to be sorry that he’d had the opportunity to watch her unobserved. Dancing gracefully, her tall slim body swaying and turning to the music. And her hair, that long glorious fall of silver hair sheeting out behind her, swirling around her with every spin and swaying with every tilt of her head.

Tom rang the doorbell and waited. The music had changed to something Motown but after a few seconds the volume was reduced rapidly, and he could hear the thump of her feet as she crossed the hardwood floor to the door and pulled it open with a smile.

“Should I say good morning?” she asked. He grinned back.

“Just as long as you don’t say good night! I’m famished and that smells delightful!”

“Come on in, then,” she said, pulling the door wide and moving back to let him in. Tom stepped through the doorway and kissed her cheek in greeting.

“Good evening, darling. I feel I must owe you a thousand apologies, but I’m I find I’m not entirely sure what for. Perhaps you’ll fill me in? Oh, and these are for you.” He handed her the flowers. Susanna accepted them and leaned to shut the door behind him, glancing outside as she did so, and back at the flowers in her hands.

“Coals to Newcastle, I’m afraid, sweetie!” she laughed. “But thank you nevertheless!“ He laughed back.

"Do you know, that’s exactly what I thought as I came through your front garden!” He smiled sheepishly, ducking his head.

“Oh well, great minds and all that…” she said with a wave of a forgiving hand and a smile.

“They’re lovely, thank you. You’ve been to Lucinda’s Flowers, I see.” Suzanna looked quizzical. "However did you manage to get Lucinda to open for you at this time of night?

“Oh, erm, bribed her with a bottle of Pinot Grigio, actually.” Tom rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, looking up at her sheepishly.

Suzanna laughed delightedly. "Yeah, that would do it! Did she hold you up for an autograph, as well?“

Tom went a little pink, but avoided answering her question by presenting the other bottle of wine that he’d bought tonight.

"Oh, yum! Come on in. Did you sleep well?” She moved around him and started towards the kitchen at the back of the house. Tom followed her, noting the tall dark wood wainscoting on the walls of the room they passed through, the white plaster above and colorful artwork hanging from high picture rails. The furniture was mostly Arts and Crafts to match the architecture, with leather cushions and colorful throw pillows, a bright rug on the hardwood floor.

“You have a lovely home Susanna, it’s very cozy.” He said, looking around as they walked.

“Thank you. I like it. I’m definitely opening this wine, do you want a glass, or would you prefer a cup of tea?“

"No, wine would be lovely. I don’t want to get too hopped up on caffeine, I still have to sleep off the rest of this jet lag!” He leaned his back against the countertop and crossed his legs at the ankle as he spoke.

She stretched up for couple of wine glasses from the cupboard, setting them to hand, and fishing out corkscrew from a drawer as she said, “I guess that was the worst case of jet lag I’ve ever seen! I’m frankly amazed you’re up so early, I figured you’d be out until at least two or three in the morning!”

Tom reached over and took the bottle and corkscrew out of her hands and deftly pulled the cork.

“Well, an uncomfortable gallon of tea and an empty stomach woke me quite firmly!” He smiled ruefully, handing her the bottle back. She laughed at that.

Suzanna moved around the kitchen as they talked, taking down a cobalt blue platter, retrieving food from the refrigerator, cutting and slicing, snipping fresh basil and parsley from the pots on her windowsill. Tasting. Placing the bits and pieces and herbs on the platter, cocking her head and surveying the composition of food she had created for the two of them.

“Please let me help,” Tom said. She turned and looked at his earnest expression. “…Alright, will you slice about a dozen pieces off this baguette? Put them is this basket.” she directed.

“Of course,” he replied, turning to wash his hands at the sink before taking up the bread knife. She watched his long fingers as he manipulated the knife for a moment and then moved back to her tasks.

Finally satisfied with the composition of the plate, she picked it and her wine glass up and moved to the French doors that lead out onto a wide low deck extending out into the back garden.

“Get the door, will you Tom? I thought it would be nice to eat out here.” He reached around her and opened the door, and she led him out to a small table and chairs, setting the plate down.

“Have a seat,” she directed, and turned back indoors, picking up the wine bottle and flipping a light switch next to the door. Small flood lights came on around the garden, illuminating patches of flowers and shrubs, and fairy lights came on overhead, illuminating the deck and seating area with a soft warm glow. He stood to hold her chair for him for her, and she smiled up at him as she sat.

"Please, eat,” she said as he sat in his own chair across from her.

Tom glanced around the garden appreciatively and down at the table. "It’s lovely here…and this plate is so pretty, I feel I ought to take a picture! “  
She blinked in surprise as he actually pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the platter.

"I hardly know where to start…"

He caught up his wineglass and tipped it toward her. 

“Here’s to rescuers! Thank you Suzanna, for the rescue and the lovely meal.” He sipped, and looked down at the platter’s contents: bread and cheeses, sour cherry jam to complement the cheese, a bit of pate, cornishons, marinated artichokes, fine slices of salami and Parma ham, and cherry tomatoes, all set off by the verdant green of the fresh herbs, and set around a small bowl of garlic infused olive oil and cracked pepper.

“Well then,” she reached for a piece of the baguette bread, selected some cheese, topped it with a bit of jam, and held it out to him.

Tom surprised by her by leaning over and taking the morsel with his teeth rather than by hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he did so.  
Susanna snatched her hand back, waving a finger at him.

“None of your tricks, boy! ”

He swallowed the lovely flavors and chuckled, then sipped his wine before selecting bits from the platter and transferring them onto the small plate before him.

“Alright darling, I promise. I’ll behave!” 

He contemplated her as they both began to munch on the delectable anti-pasto. She sat back with her wine glass and returned his scrutiny.

“What? Spit it out?” She invited calmly.

He sighed and picked up his own wine, settled back in his chair and stared a moment into his glass before looking up.

“Clearly I have you to thank for getting me back to my hotel room. So, thank you. But…I find myself somewhat at a loss that I was apparently walking and talking while being almost wholly unaware of doing so. I think…you have care of those memories, will you fill the gaps for me?"

She laughed. "Yes, I could see how that would be a bit unnerving! But you needn’t worry, you behaved yourself- mostly.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Ah. Do tell.”

Susanna recounted their stumbling odyssey from the riverside to his hotel room. “Do you remember any of it?” She asked, her head tilted curiously, and a little sympathetically.

Tom furrowed his brow and sipped at his wine. “I think… I have a fuzzy recollection of you hoisting me around rather like a sack of potatoes? ”

Susanna colored, glancing down at her plate. “Well yes, a bit. I sort of jammed my shoulder under yours and tried to keep you moving in the right direction…Sorry about all the manhandling.”

“No! I’m sorry for troubling you! I’m very grateful that you didn’t leave me out for the wolves!”

She grinned at him. “Well, I would say 'no trouble at all’, but you were indeed a great deal of trouble, and you’ll be getting the bill for my chiropractor!”  
He sat forward in his chair abruptly and reached a hand out to her in concern.

“Dear God, I didn’t hurt you, did I??” His eyes darted over her frantically.

“No, no, no!” she denied, then paused and shrugged. “Well honestly, yes, a bit of muscle strain, but as I said, a trip to the chiropractor and a hot bath, and I’m as good as new. Really! Don’t worry yourself on that account! So, Tom what else do you remember?”

“I think I remember you cajoling me. And swearing rather a lot…?”

“Like a sailor, yes.” she concurred. "You are damn heavy when you aren’t in your senses! What else?“

He blushed and shifted uncomfortably. 

"Did I…did you… I have this oddly distinct memory, you see, at least I’m pretty sure it’s a memory…well, it’s more of a physical memory… the feel of…” he cleared his throat, “…your, erm, body pressed against me?”

“Yep. I’m sorry Tom, it was really the only way to keep you upright when I had to use my hands. When we got to the car, I had to get the door open for you, so I had to pin you against the car by leaning all my weight against you. Don’t worry, "she grinned, "I was a gentleman, your virtue is intact! ”

“Oh. Ah.” He turned pink again. “I was actually more worried that I might have been… inappropriate with you.” He relaxed a bit.

“No,“ she returned with a grin, "that came later!”

“What??” He sat up straight. “What do you mean? What happened?” Tom’s hand shot out towards her. “Please tell me I didn’t…? ”

“Oh sweetie, relax! It’s really fine, and actually rather…sweet. Once I got you onto your bed and got your shoes off I tried to relieve you of your belt, so that you could sleep comfortably. I suppose, in some sort of instinctual reaction, you clutched and flipped me onto the bed beside you… and then you just kind of wrapped yourself around me like a life-size teddy bear and went completely comatose. That’s all. I had to wait until you let go in your sleep before I could leave. I actually had a very nice nap.”

“Oh God, Suzanna, I’m so sorry!”

“Thomas. I told you. It’s fine. No harm done! I’d hardly have invited you into my home and cooked for you if I felt you had injured or offended me, now would I?” She looked at him sternly. “It’s all good. Really.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tom sat back and blew out his breath as he looked at her. He smiled crookedly and picked up his wine, his eyes roving over her.

“Well. I don’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed,” he murmured into his wineglass.

Suzanna blinked at him, and picked up her own wineglass to cover her blush as warmth suffused her.

“Huh. That was…” Words deserted her. Suzanna hadn’t expected him to insinuate that he would would not have objected to something more intimate with her. Unexpected indeed.

She took a quick swallow of her wine, casting a quick glance at him, suddenly aware of his male-ness. Yep. The pec’s are still nice. Spectacular, even. She pushed the tendril of feeling away as she set her glass down on the table and toyed with it, not really knowing how to fill the silence. Tom shifted and reached his hand across the table to touch hers.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” His finger drifted down onto the plain gold band on middle finger of her left hand. She wore it there since Matthew had died, it had developed the inconvenient habit of slipping off of her ring finger, when everything she ate turned to ashes in her mouth.

“Perhaps that was inappropriate…Are you married?”

She cleared her throat. “No… Widowed.” she said baldly, looking away pensively.

Tom grasped her hand and gave it a small squeeze, saying nothing, just holding her hand, his thumb gently rubbing circles on the back of her hand. Suzanna gazed at the large hand enclosing hers comfortingly. She was grateful that he hadn’t responded with the typical inane, socially acceptable condolences that she had come to loathe.

She looked up with a small smile to comment on his delicacy, but she was interrupted by the oven timer going off. She stood, pulling her hand away gently, dropping her napkin on the table with a grin.

“That’s the lasagna, excuse me…” She escaped to the kitchen, removed the pan of bubbling lasagna and set it on the counter to rest, as Tom followed her inside.

“God, that smells marvelous! Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“Sure.” She nodded at the refrigerator. “There’s a salad in the fridge, you can take it to the table, if you will. This needs to cool a bit before I dish up.”

Tom retrieved the salad bowl while Susanna picked up dressing and salad plates, following him back outdoors, setting the plates out and sitting back down as Tom held her chair, smiling up at him as she sat. 

"Thank you.“ she murmured.

Tom chewed thoughtfully as he watched her push her salad around.

“How long ago..?” he asked quietly.

She smiled fleetingly and paused, searching his face. Did she really want to go into it with him? She wiped her lips with her napkin.

“Eight months ago.” she said quietly. “It was very sudden…”

“That must’ve been very difficult for you…” he trailed off, leaving it up to her whether she wanted to continue the topic of conversation.

“Yeah.” she sighed. “One of the hardest parts is getting used to the quiet, you know? Matthew wasn’t a noisy man, but there was always a sense of… another living and breathing soul in the house, and now…” she took a sip of her wine. "I never realized how loud silence can be, you know?”

Tom nodded. “I do know, actually. It’s like that when I’m home. I’m pretty much continually surrounded by people, given my work and my travels, but the silence when I get home can be simply,“ he twisted his lip in thought, "deafening. I have to admit sometimes that’s very welcome. Other times it’s just very… lonely.” he commiserated, taking another swallow of his wine to soothe a throat unexpectedly tight.

Suzanna nodded in agreement and shrugged. “That’s why you found me at the riverside this morning. Sometimes the silence is so loud I can’t work, and it drives me out of the house.”

“I can certainly sympathize with that. I’ve felt the same since my… since Jen moved out last year. Sometimes it doesn’t really feel like home anymore…”

She picked at her salad, taking a small bite, and mulling over the similarities in their situations.

“Have you thought about selling up?” she asked curiously. “I’ve thought about it myself.” she went on, glancing around her yard and home with melancholy. “It’s my home, and I love it, but there are days… well, most nights, to be truthful, when it feels more like a tomb than a home.”

“Yes. Exactly.” he nodded. “I have thought about selling, but I am there so little…and I don’t really have time… and I keep finding excuses not to part with it. Because it is still… It’s the home we shared, you see. Her closet still smells like her…”

He cleared his throat and swallowed the last of his wine, reaching for the bottle and topping off his glass. He gestured with the bottle, silently offering to top hers.  
She stared into her glass for a moment and then nodded, pushing her glass forward in assent.

“Thank you.” She took her glass and sat back with a swallow.

They were silent for a few minutes, companionably sharing the quiet moment of grief and could-have-beens, Tom’s hand covering hers. Eventually she sat up with a small rueful laugh breaking the moment.

“I invited you here to feed you, not to spend all evening wallowing in old spirits!”

She stood and began collecting plates, clearing their salads and antipasti. “I’d better dish up the lasagna or it’ll go cold…”

Tom stood and helped her carry the dishes in, setting them in the sink.

“Dibs on the washing up!” he said lightly.

“What?” she laughed. “I didn’t bring you in to do the dishes either! I’ll deal with them in the morning.” she shrugged lightly.

Tom glanced at his watch. “It is the morning, darling!”

She looked over at her kitchen clock. "So it is! Well, I suppose if you’re still interested after you eat, you’re welcome to do my dishes, then!” she smirked.

Suzanna dished up their lasagna and handed a plate to Tom. She pulled another wine bottle from the cooler and they trooped back outside to the table.  
“It’s getting a little chilly.” She left her plate on the table and went to the small outdoor fireplace, lighting a fire before taking her seat. Tom took a bite of the lasagna.

“Ohhh,” he moaned, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, “this tastes as marvelous as it smells…”

The firelight spilled over their faces with a warm glow, taking the slight chill from the air around them as they ate steadily in companionable silence, both of them appreciating the good food.

Tom set his knife and fork on his empty plate and wiped his mouth. Taking up his wineglass he settled back in his chair.

“Lovely, Suzanna. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a home-cooked meal. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, darling…” They sat in companionable silence for a time, Suzanna eventually stirring and clearing the table. Tom would not be put off from doing the dishes.

“Do you have any children?” Tom asked curiously, as he finished washing the last dish and dried his hands.

Suzanna couldn’t help the smile that lit her face. She wasn’t even aware of it, but to Tom it looked like the sun coming out.

“I do. I have the best kid! She lives up yonder about 30 miles away. Amanda is great! You –“ she broke off and stared at him.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” he demanded, puzzled, watching her consternation bloom. Her eyes lifted to his in a sheepish glance.

“I am going to be in so much trouble when she hears about… you. Damn.”

Tom grinned and leaned against the countertop. He reached an arm out and snagged her as she went past muttering to herself, pulling her to stand between his legs.

He crooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his.

“Have you ever heard a Bonnie Raitt tune called ‘Something to Talk About’?” he asked, his lips inches from hers with a teasing grin.

Suzanna’s eyes widened as her attention was riveted to his mouth.

And then he was kissing her, his mouth tracing her lips, brushing teasingly over her. His fingers still crooked under her chin, he leaned back to look at her, to discern her expression, and give her a moment to say No, or to move away.

Suzanna stared back at him, stunned by her body’s overwhelmingly quick response, her nipples instantly pebbled. She quite suddenly realized that she had been all but dead from the neck down since Matthew. Her hands clutched at his biceps as her gaze flicked back and forth between his eyes.

She saw some of her own pain looking back from his eyes, a certain loneliness, along with a lustful awareness of her. Suzanna stood frozen, unwilling to step away, unable to step forward.

Tom’s hand moved from her chin, freeing her, and gently brushing the long fall of her hair back over her shoulder, fingering the blue-green streak. His fingertips trailed down her neck and across her collarbone, leaving a tiny chill behind, as his warm fingers moved over her skin. All the small hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up, sensitizing her all over.

Tom watched as his fingers slid from her collar to the outside of her breast, tracing along the side, sliding his knuckles against the tender underside as Suzanna’s breath caught. Tom continued to glide his fingers gently over her as he watched her patiently, waiting for her decision.

That she wants this is a revelation to Suzanna, her body coming to life in a way she hadn’t even realized that she was missing. Her hand came up to trace a light feathering caress on the back of his hand, encouraging him to continue.

Tom’s other hand slid around the back of her neck, long fingers working into her hair, and he pulled her in to a deep kiss, letting a little of his own longing for connection into her mouth.

Tom’s arm went around her back and crushed her to him as he deepened the kiss. Suzanna didn’t know if her lightheadedness was a result of his tight hold, or a result of his obvious desire for her, and she didn’t give a damn.

Tom broke the kiss. He tipped his head down, touching her forehead with his and breathed out heavily. They both did.

“Suzanna…” he whispered, “tell me this is okay…”

The waking warmth in her belly pushed the words out.

“Yes… Oh yes.”

“Thank Christ!” he breathed with a small laugh, glancing around the room quickly and back at her.

“Is there someplace more horizontal and comfortable that we can take this, love? I’m far too old for the floor or the sofa, and not energetic enough for the wall…”

Suzanna snickered, turned and led him by the hand down the hall to her room. Her room, mind you, not the master bedroom that she had shared with Matthew. The spare room that her daughter insisted she move into when Amanda discovered that her mother was incapable of sleeping in her marital bed any longer.  
Tom glanced around as she drew him into her room. A motion sensor tripped and a low blue glow emanated from under the low bed, diffused through the white bedskirt. And somewhere a sound machine started up, enveloping them in the low sound of ocean waves rhythmically breaking on a beach, and the quiet nighttime peeping of frogs and chirping of insects.

Tom stopped dead, looking around in astonishment as the room came into quiet life around them. There was a tropical canopied tree painted on the wall behind the bed and up over the ceiling, silk leaves of various shades of green had been incorporated in the painting to give the tree a living 3-D effect. There were the tiniest of white lights set randomly in the dark blue ceiling, peeping through the foliage of the great tree. Tom turned to take in the other side of the room, and found a tropical beach painted on the opposite wall, the moon shining down on ocean waves, creating a moon path on the water. It was not a simple nursery painting. It was an honest to god realistic land and sea-scape rendered in proper oil paints.

Suzanna flipped a switch near the door and a small ceiling fan began to turn lazily, setting the silk leaves of the tree fluttering and the ‘stars’ twinkling through the foliage. There was also a very small white spotlight above the fan aimed at the painting of ocean waves, the fan’s arms strobing the light and creating an amazing sense of movement from the painted crashing waves. The strobing light was synched to the rhythm of the sound of ocean waves, fooling the mind into suspending disbelief. The overall effect was one of a bed on a beach at the edge of a tropical forest overlooking the ocean in the moonlight. It was soothing and hypnotic.

Tom turned to Suzanna where she was leaning against the door, arms folded as she watched his delight.

“This is amazing Suzanna! Stupendous, completely brilliant!” he enthused, stepping close to examine the moon, his fingers tracing over a wave.

“Thank you. My daughter did this for me a couple of months ago when she realized I wasn’t sleeping. She did all this over a week’s time, keeping the door shut and threatening me with bodily harm if I opened the door. I came home from the library one day and found a note on the door, bidding me come in…” She looked around. “It’s pretty spectacular isn’t it? I told you she’s an amazing kid…”

“You keep referring to her as a kid. How old is she?” Tom reached out and brushed the painted and embellished tree, fingering a bit of beadwork emulating dewdrops at the tip of a silk leaf. “The attention to detail is astounding…”

“She’s twenty-six. She owns and operates a bar cum art gallery in Coral, just up the mountainside. She sells her own art and some other local artists stuff there. You should see it, she’s made it over into Captain Hook’s pirate ship, complete with Tinkerbell trapped in a lantern over the bar, beating her wings on the glass…”

Suzanna looked at Tom, wondering with a sudden jolt what on earth she was doing with Tom in her bedroom. Her daughter was a far more appropriately aged bed partner for him, and she felt a little foolish to have believed that this beautiful young man… Her thoughts trailed off as Tom moved through the dim light to stand in front of Suzanna, his hand moving to her cheek and his eyes tracing her face.

“I feel I’ve fallen into faery, and you are Titania, all moonlight and silver…” he murmured quietly, and leaned forward to kiss her, his lips reverent.  
Suzanna’s hand wrapped around his wrist of its own accord, as if her body was demanding that her fears not push him away. Tom deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers, pressing her back against the door with his body in a reversal of the way Suzanna had held him propped against the elevator wall, pinning him with her bodyweight yesterday at his hotel.

Tom rolled them so that he was pinned once again to the wall by her body, his arms wrapped securely around her, anchoring her body to his, his feet spread and hers in between.

“Suzanna…" he breathed, “you created some sort of an…indelible sensory memory for me, yesterday.“ He drew a hand slowly over her shoulder and down her arm, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. "I will never forget the feeling of your body holding me up, refusing to let me fall. I… I’ll remember that feeling ever after… Thank you for that.” he murmured into her hair.

Tom was all for sweet and slow with her. Urgency could come later. It had been long enough for him since Jen moved out, that it wasn’t the actual release he needed; he had a right hand for that, he thought. It was care and connection he needed. He recognized the same need for tenderness in her as she stroked a hand over his cheek…


	4. Chapter 4

“Suzanna… tell me,” he whispered against her lips, “tell me you want this.”

Her hands pressed against the firm flesh of his chest, warm cloth and beating heart under her fingertips. Suzanna pushed him back a little to look into his eyes, the heated blue-green searing a path down the center of her body. She glanced down, almost surprised not to see a trail of flames. She could feel her body flooding with want.

Suzanna’s cheeks were heated. She hadn’t ever considered the possibility that she might find herself having ‘the talk’ about health and protection and…birth control, for god’s sakes! Matthew had had a vasectomy years and years ago. She hadn’t given so much as a single thought about birth control for herself since then, and to find herself, at her age… which might be not quite old enough to disregard the possibility.

“Tom… I do very much want this… want you,” she whispered, heat painting her cheekbones. “But…”

She felt his body tense at that, begin to draw away, and hurried on to say the rest, words she had honestly never expected to say for the rest of her life.

“But I don’t, I can’t… I don’t, don’t have any birth control.” she stuttered, blushing hotter.

“Not to worry, love. I have that, erm… covered.”

Suzanna burst out into honest-to-god giggles and then clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes horrified over her hands. Tom’s eyebrows went up, a curious smile lighting his face with amusement as she struggled not to laugh.

“It wasn’t that funny, surely darling?” he purred. She dissolved into giggles again, pushing her forehead into his neck as she tried to get hold of herself, finally managing a couple of deep breaths. Tom waited patiently, his hand stroking over her hair and down to her hip.

“S-sorry. I just never thought I’d… I’ve just never actually had ‘the talk’ with anyone- ever.”  
She was a little sheepish.

“Do you mean to tell me that I’m your first?” Toms eyes widened comically. She made a gruesome face.

“Yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball! That was definitely more painful than my last cherry! And I don’t giggle! …I might be a little nervous.” she trailed off.

Tom gently lifted her chin to look into her eyes, his softening.

“Are you alright? Do you want to stop?”

“Good god, NO!” she burst out. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Tom, you’ve brought me half-way across some very deep waters, don’t you dare leave me here!”

She surprised herself by pushing her hands through the short curls at the back of his head and pulling his head down, brushing his lips with hers and diving into his mouth, intent on tasting every bit of him.

Tom groaned as she pushed into his mouth, pulling her body closer, his hand kneading her back, sliding lower and lower until he grasped her ass and lifted her against him, grinding his hard length against the seam of her blue jeans. She gasped into his mouth.

“Yesss…”

Tom lifted her and laid her on the bed, crawling up over her body on all fours, dipping for random kisses over her still clothed belly, and shoulder along the way, before dipping to her mouth.

Suzanna glanced down at his beautiful, firm body, the tight skin flowing over long muscle, a man in his prime. No, this was no boy. Then she remembered the body under her own clothing, knew that she was baby chewed and abraded by time, her skin not so firm, her breasts not nearly as high… when she looked up into his eyes hers had flooded. He searched her face.

“Suzanna,” he said lowly, “don’t imagine for one moment that I would not choose over again to be exactly where I am at this moment.” He cupped her face gently, his thumb running across her cheekbone. She swallowed and nodded.

Hovering over her, staring down lustfully at her mouth, he leaned down and kissed her. Settling his thighs between hers, braced high on his hands over her, tasting her lips, kissing down her neck, tonguing her collarbone, his breath washing tantalizingly over her chest.

Suzanna’s breath shuddered out of her, surrendering to a million sensations, some familiar and some sparking new. A wave of goosebumps ran over her body, all the millions of tiny hairs standing up, sensitizing her entire body. She moaned as he ran his hands over her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples through her blouse and bra.

Tom lifted the hem of her blouse, sliding his fingertips from the cool silk of her blouse to the warm silk of her skin, watching her carefully. He reached for the bottom button , delicately working the tiny button through the tiny loop, moving up to the next, and the next. He did a quick count, twenty tiny buttons through twenty tiny loops in all.

She made a small noise and he glanced up at her face. Is it impatience? She stared back with a small apologetic smile and shrug.

“If I’d had any idea we might end up here,” she glanced around her room, “I might have worn something a bit easier to remove.”

“Oh no, darling,” he murmured back, “this is perfect. What better way to appreciate and savor a gift…”

She felt her heart clutch. What a very sweet thing to say…

His fingers continuing to work, he leaned in and kissed her, his tongue dipping into her mouth, teasing hers into chasing him.  
Suzanna felt the cooler air wash over her stomach and chest as Tom pushed the sides of her blouse open and sat back to admire his prize. He sucked in a breath at the ice blue demi-cups, tracing a fingertip over the edge of lace as she shivered. 

Finally he moved to the front closure and flipped the catch open, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on the bare skin between her breasts. He carefully brushed the cups of her bra aside.

Tom stared down, watching his hands mold her breasts, observing the minute reactions to his touch, the delicate skin of her breasts tightened and goose pimpled, areola bunched into tight knots prodding into his palms.

Her breasts are incredibly soft, lovely, the flesh under his hands tender and velvety. They are not the high, firm breasts of a 25 year old nor even a 35-year-old, but wonderful in their softness, welcoming and comforting.

Moving back, he trailed an open mouth kiss over a breast, feeling the incredible delicate softness against his lips. He rubbed his cheek against her breast, hearing her breath catch as his stubble scratched at the tender skin. She jolted when he deliberately scraped over the other breast, a small laugh escaping her.

“Oh, so that’s why…” she murmured to half to herself in a tone of revelation. Tom’s tongue went to work soothing over the beard burn.

“Hmm? Why what, darling?” he asked, continuing to mouthe and lick at her breasts.

“All the stubble I see on men,” she gasped out over his ministrations, “…I thought it was just a fad thing… but there’s an actual reason for it isn’t there?” gasp, ‘It feels so good…”

Tom chuckled and rubbed his stubbled chin over her nipple. She arched up with a small cry, so he did it again.

“Mmm, sensitive…” he purred and settled to soothe her poor overstimulated nipple. Gently suckling, his tongue flattened and drew her in, gradually increasing the pull. Susanna’s hand crept to the back of his head, her fingers threading into his hair, keeping his mouth against her breast as she began to moan and squirm, desperate for more. Tom obliged, pressing his hip against her mound.

She returned the favor, raising her thigh to brush against the hard shape behind his zipper. Hearing his breath catch, she slid her hands up his chest to his shirt buttons, undoing each at a leisurely pace, gliding her fingers over the uncovered bare skin, pushing his shirt off his shoulders.

Tom knelt up and pulled his shirt off, reaching for the button on her jeans. He glanced up for permission and her chin jerked up and down in on a shaky breath as she watched him open her jeans and pull them away, his hands sliding around her hips to her ass, pushing her jeans and underpants down on his wrists.  
He lifted her hips easily with one hand, the other stripping away her clothing and then returning her gently to the bed.

Tom took a moment to appreciate her body, her long silver hair spread around her. Tall and slim, a long elegant neck, pink patches of skin evidence of his rough beard, and nibbling kisses. Her skin looks so soft all over, he ran a hand slowly over her body. Her breasts and belly display faint silvery stretch marks, belly rounded out between her hips in a sure sign that she had once had a baby.

She hadn’t bothered to shave since her husband’s funeral, (who would see, after all?) but her body hair was so pale and fine that she looked almost bare anyway. Her arms and chest and legs showed her years of exposure to the sun, little age freckles starring her skin.

Tom’s hand skimmed up her body to her hair as she watched him. He pulled a thick silver strand over her shoulder and lay it down over her body, smoothing it again and again. Silver hair, pale skin, and delicate, pale pink, tight nipple jutting through the hair, Tom continued to look and stroke. She really was the beautiful elven conjuration of Titania, ethereal and delicate and breakable, as she looked up at him with wide green eyes.

“So beautiful,” he murmured.

He watched her body release that tiny bit of tension it held at his words. She played her fingers over the sparse patch of hair in the center of his chest.

“You have a few silver glints of your own…”

Tom rolled his eyes and grimaced.  
“Yes, and before I get my kit off in front of the camera I’ll have to tweeze them out! It bloody hurts!” She looked at him with a teasing grin.

“There’s a painless solution for that you know…”

“Oh yes?”

“Yep. Keep your shirt on!” Tom groaned.

“I think I spent most of last year naked in front of a camera!”

She laughed at that.

“Always so polite and accommodating, Tom!” She toyed with the button. He snapped his teeth together in a laughing warning.

Tom’s face buried in her neck, kissing the soft skin under her ear, breathing in her soft gardenia scent. But, oh my God, he feels so good… she felt the path of goosebumps rising over her skin, pricking down her body. She couldn’t help arching her neck into the touch of his lips like a cat, her breath shuddering out of her.

“Shut up.” she moaned, trying to silence the little voice at the back of her mind that kept jeering at her, ‘too old, too old’.

Tom’s lips paused, before diving back in, sucking and drawing her skin gently. He seemed to know instantly what she needed.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He murmured between kisses as he worked his way across her collarbone. “How enticingly soft you feel against my lips?” He moved up and tipped his forehead against hers and breathed out heavily.

“…how badly I want to be inside you?” His words were causing her to writhe with need against his body, infusing her with energy and desire. Dammit, why the hell not?! The revelation burst in her brain: she’s a grown-ass woman, she could do whatever she liked as long as he’s okay with it. She has no one else to answer to. It’s been over 30 years since she had a lover, since she was free to experience something, someone new.

Suzanna found herself biting down on his collarbone, tasting the salt and faint musk of male. Lightning flared up her spine, electrifying her skin. He… he is a stranger to her, and will go back to being a stranger, after. And that is somehow a comforting thing.

Tom’s body undulated against hers. She heard the small gasps and grunts as he brushed and ground himself against her.

Damn. Damn. Damn. He is so… Suzanna thought, nearly incoherent, and I am so… but the electricity tightening her breasts, sensitizing her skin, making her clench… these things that she has not felt in… so long.

She had loved Matthew. Adored him. They had had a marvelous, loving life together. But Tom was awakening things in her that had been long dormant. 30 years with the same man after all. Anything different is bound to be…exhilarating, right?

So many different signals, so many different sensations, so different from Matthew. Tom’s mouth landed warm and wet over her nipple and she lost control of her reactions. Her hips thrust up against his with a cry.

“Fuck darling, your skin is so soft, so like velvet…”

She felt his teeth dig in slightly, tugging delicately at her skin. “Suzanna…” he moaned. “I need to taste you… please…”

His lips trailed down her body, her body arching up to meet his lips.

His kisses trailed down her body. She didn’t know when she had last felt so worshiped. Matthew was everything, but she had not felt this alive, this electrified, this turned on in…ages.

“Tom…” she arched her neck up, her whole body straining toward his. Suzanna let go. She let go of her past, let go of Matthew, let go of being a mother, let go of everything but this present, right now. Sparks touched her skin everywhere he touched her.

She wanted to close her eyes and be carried away on these sensations. But she couldn’t stop watching his beautiful, expressive face, every raised brow, deepening eye crease, flutter of eyelashes, every bitten lip and open mouth kiss…

He lifted his head and his eyes met hers for a long fulminating minute. The dim light had leached all the blue and green tones from his irises. They were a slim gray ring around wide black pupils and they were staring deep into her.

Lowering his head, he slid his hands under her ass and tilted her hips, his mouth ghosting over her, teasing and tantalizing her until she could stand it no more, pushing her hips up against his mouth, her hand sliding into his hair in a silent plea to go further.

Tom sucked her labia into his mouth, running his tongue over her inner softness, her scent and taste winding around his brain.

The point of his tongue delicately separated her labia, insinuating itself, flicking over her flushed interior from her entrance to the merest brush over her clit.

Suzanna cried out, arching back, her hand tightening in his hair. Tom felt her light up his scalp, pulling a moan from deep in his chest. Her hand spasmed open as she realized how hard she was gripping his hair. She lifted her head and looked down her body, very gently pulling her hand from his hair and smoothing her palm in an apologetic caress over his hair. Tom looked up at her, nuzzled his head into her hand, turned his head and softly kissed the inside of her wrist.

“Don’t stop, Suzanna.” he whispered against her lips and delving his tongue between them in a firm lick. Her hand tightened in his hair once again. He traced a finger around her entrance, lighting up all the nerves there.

“Please… oh please!” she whimpered, so empty and so needing to be filled.

Tom’s long finger invaded her as she fluttered around him, feeling the pulse of her heart. He leaned in and kissed her, insinuating his tongue and stroking around and against her clit.

“Yessss…”

She shook with all the long-lost sensations, feeling the wave of heat wash up her body and a gush of fluids wet Tom’s fingers as he started a lovely rhythm, and a counterpoint to his fingers with his tongue.

Susanna was rocking against his mouth, completely lost, soaring higher and higher, the coil inside her bowing her back, when it snapped with a quiet cry. Tom gently nursed her through the clenching ripples, his lips soft around her clit and fingers stroking, petting her interior as it pulsed.

She fell back against the bed in a boneless sprawl, a smile of satisfaction on her lips.

“Damn…” A small, breathy laugh rippled from her. She felt Tom moving about and opened her eyes.

Tom thought that was the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. He crawled up her body, settling on his forearms over her, licking his lips like a cat, his white teeth glimmering through his smile in the dim light.

Suzanna lifted a hand and caressed the side of his face.

“I can’t tell if you are more pleased with me, or more pleased with yourself!” she teasingly observed.

“Yes. I am.” His smile widened and then he kissed her deeply, her own taste on his tongue. Pulling back, he gently raked his teeth over her lower lip and trailed kisses over her jaw and throat. Suzanna felt the embers flame into life once more as he brushed his body against hers.

Suzanna watched his face as she slid her hands down his body to the button of his trousers. She paused, tracing a fingertip over the bulge behind his zipper, wondering just how much trouble she could be in. She heard Tom’s breath stutter a bit at the contact.

Taking a breath of her own, she asked, “May I?” getting a breathy “By all means darling, help yourself…”

She undid the button and slowly pulled the zip down, sliding her hand into the opening. Looking down at what she’d uncovered, she paused, forty-eleven things running through her head. 30 years since she seen a different one of these. She swallowed, saliva pooling in her mouth as she looked at the hard length in her hand. Will he feel different? What does he taste like? Can she do this?

She peeked up at him, his eyes meeting hers, seeing all her questions mirrored in his face. She gave an exhilarated laugh and bent to lick a stripe up his shaft from base to tip, tasting for herself, as he gasped and groaned.

She held him still in her hand, taking a moment, just breathing her warm moist breath over him, savoring his flavor, contemplating the fact that his is an entirely new flavor to her.

Tom was completely rigid, waiting, waiting, the heat of her breath gusting down over his straining cock. His breath shuddered out of him several times before he broke.

“Suzanna…” he choked out. She flicked her eyes up to his, her hand drawing up his length and thumb stretching to circle his head, smoothing the drop of pre-come over and around him.

“Sorry. Just appreciating the majesty..!” A laugh burst out of him.

Her lips quirking at the corners as she swiped her tongue over his cockhead, Tom cried out, his back arched up at the sensation. She stroked him again, bending over him. She closed her lips over his cockhead, swirling her tongue around it pulling his foreskin back and flickering the point of her tongue over his frenulum.  
Tom’s hands jumped to her head, his fingers searching, needing to hold onto her. He combed almost frantically through her hair in long strokes as she slid her mouth down his shaft, gathering her hair in a hank he could hold in one hand, watching her mouth slide up and down his cock.

He bit his lip and his eyes rolled up in his head, his hips jutting up, trying desperately not to abandon all restraint and simply take her mouth.

“Suzanna… please… don’t finish me yet!” he pled. With one last swirl of her tongue she drew off him and looked up as she sat back on her heels between his thighs, her hand delicately stroking slowly up and down.

Tom sat up abruptly, reaching for the condom he had left on her pillow. Suzanna sat watching him. He offered the foil package to her, but she waved her hands at him, refusing to take it.

“I’m fairly sure that you’ve handled one of those more recently than I, Tom!” He snorted.

“Bit like riding a bike really, darling. One never really forgets how..!” he said as he rolled the thing down his cock.

Grasping his cock, smoothing and seating the latex at his root, she played her fingers over him.

“Tom. Come here…” she breathed.

Tom rolled onto his back, gently bringing her above him, his hand sliding into the back of her hair and pulling her down for a kiss.

Her eyes blinked open as she gazed down at him inside the curtain of her silver hair. Her grin was crooked.

“Very smooth move, Tom. I’m impressed.” Tom cast his eyes down demurely.

"So kind…” he murmured. She snickered.

“Hmm. Let’s see if I remember any smooth moves myself…” She contemplated him and leaned down, planting her hands on his chest as she drew him into a heavy kiss and slid her hips down his body until she felt his cock slide between her labia, coating him with her wet.

“Christ, you feel so hot, you’ll scald me, Suzanna!” he groaned against her lips.

A smile curled the corner of her mouth and she tilted her hips, pushing down and taking him into her in one sliding stroke. She held momentarily still, both of them gasping into each other’s mouth.

Tom’s hands relocated from her hair to her hips, gripping and holding her still, his eyes shut tight and arching back, focused on the velvet heat and wet surrounding his cock, a buzzing starting up in his ears as his balls drew up tight. After a moment more Suzanna ground down against him and began to shift in tiny motions over him, just twitching her hips in his grasp. Gods, it felt so good.

She pushed herself to sit up on him, her hands falling away from his chest and she rocked her hips, riding him almost languidly.

Tom opened his eyes to gaze up her body, her breasts swaying with her movement as she swept her hair behind her shoulder. He let go her hips, and reached to cup her breasts, thumbing her nipples, watching as she undulated over him. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back, lighting the skin where her hair brushed over his thighs.

Tom reached for her hips again, tucking her a little forward over his pubis. She bent back and back, the angle of her hips changing as his pushed against something inside her, pulling a whine from her. Suzanna reached for her ankles, bent backwards to support herself. All Tom could see of her from this angle was her elongated torso and her breasts lifted as she continued that same maddeningly slow undulation. Tom ran a hand up the center of her body, lightly dragging his blunt nails back down over her skin, leaving pink trails.

She hissed and her head came up, pulling her body up to plant her hands over his pectorals and begin to ride him in earnest.

“Yes, oh yes, Suzanna, like that… just like that…” he groaned as everything in his body tightened in anticipation and rising tension. He gripped her hips and thrust up into her as she shifted faster over him.

“Oh god, Suzanna…” Tom moved a hand, dipping between them, wetting his fingers and gently setting them around her clit.

“Fuck!” she groaned.

“Can you do it again, Suzanna? Can you come again for me? Come apart around me?”

“Yes, yes…” she whispered fiercely and her hips sped up.

Tom’s fingers closed around her clit, setting his feet on the bed and thrusting up into her.

“Suzanna, dear god, I need to… I’m going to… come with me, come on, come!” He cried out a strangled note as she went rigid and clamped down over his cock, yanking his own orgasm from him, pulsing around him and milking… every… last…drop from him.

She collapsed over him, panting, her hair falling across his face as he panted as well, desperate to draw some oxygen back into his lungs. They lay like that for several moments, recovering, Tom stroking down her back.

Raising herself and starting to move off him, she grimaced as she realized, much to her chagrin, that diving right into riding him after such a long dry spell…well dammit, her hips were stiff!

She groaned and chuckled ruefully as she fell to his side, carefully stretching her legs out, feeling her joints creaking back into place after their unaccustomed vigorous exercise. She massaged her hip with one hand and opened an eye to find him grinning at her, his head propped on his hand.

“Been a while, yeah? Are you all right?”

She nodded. “You know what they say. Use it or lose it!”

“Well darling, I’d say you definitely haven’t lost it, but I think we are both going to feel it a bit tomorrow!”

She groaned. “Don’t talk about tomorrow! I’m going to get weird looks from my chiropractor for being there twice in a week!”

Tom leaned up on his elbow over her as she settled on her back, her eyes closed and a small satisfied smile on a rosy, kiss swollen mouth. He dropped a quick kiss on her lips, and rolled out of bed, stripping the condom off and dropping it in the small bin by the door.

He looked at her, her hair in wild disarray, looking thoroughly debauched, beard-burned over her neck, looking utterly pleased with herself. He sat on the bed next to her and gently prodded her over onto her belly as she groaned a mild protest at being moved in her post-coital stupor.

“Shhh. Let me just…” He gently gathered her hair into a hank and braided it to keep it contained, so that he wouldn’t roll on it and accidentally pin her head to the bed in their sleep. The rope of silver hair was as thick as his wrist and as long as his arm. He kissed the back of her neck and rolled her back over, pulling the plait over her shoulder.

“Thank you.” she whispered.

“So,” she said, making idle circles on his chest with her fingertip. “Do you expect to do the whole marriage and fatherhood thing someday?”

Tom’s body tensed under hers. It had been simple curiosity that had prompted her question. Suzanna lifted her head and looked up at him.

“If it comes along…” he gritted. She blinked at him in surprise. It seemed an innocuous enough question, but his reaction was more fraught than she expected. She leaned back further to see him better.

“Well. That was equivocal…” She puzzled at him for a moment.

“The thing is, Tom… you know it’s really okay to say that you’re not interested in marriage and children, right? I mean if that’s the way you feel about it, you might as well own it, right?”

His head lifted as he studied her face, her sincerity. Dropping his head back on the pillow and staring up at the tree canopy on her ceiling, he swallowed. She watched his adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat.

“I… I don’t honestly know. I thought with Jen… but I suppose I have to be grateful that we didn’t have a child, really.” He swallowed hard again, his eyes distinctly watery.

Suzanna crawled up over him, laying her body over his and wrapping herself around him as comfortingly as she could.

“Tom…it’s okay to mourn what you’ve lost.”

She pushed her face into his neck, one hand going to his hair and stroking.

Tom lay stoically for another minute before he gasped. His arms went around her and she heard a quiet sob. And another. He pushed his face into her hair and wept quietly while she stroked him and whispered to him that it would get better one day. Presently Tom drew a long shaking breath and let it out.

“I’m sorry…here you are, your husband gone…widowed, and I’m sniveling about being dumped…”

Suzanna held him tighter.

“It’s not a competition between my tragedy and yours, Tom. You’re allowed to feel your pain, your pain doesn’t diminish mine and vice versa.”

She kissed his cheek. Tom held her tight, breathing deeply for long minutes, and she just let him. When he had finally relaxed under her, she pulled his chin up and kissed him softly.

Tom rolled to his side and pushed Suzanna over on her back, laying his head in the hollow of her shoulder, taking the comfort she offered. He nudged his leg over hers and snuggled right up. She chuckled.

“Now this is familiar…”

“Mmm. But this time I’m awake to enjoy it…” he said guilelessly, tilting his head up to her neck. She combed her fingers lightly through his curls, petting and soothing as her eyes closed on a tired, sated night.

They both drifted off. Sometime in the gray light just before dawn Suzanna awoke, on her side, wrapped in warm arms, little spoon to his big. She knew immediately that it was Tom, no confusion at all. She lay with her eyes closed simply enjoying being held and not thinking. A few moments later he stirred. She heard him draw a deep breath, pause, as if his he’d just realized that he had someone in his arms, and then relax, his nose nuzzling into her hair, breathing in her comforting scent, her gardenia shampoo and the mingled aromas of sex.

****

Suzanna followed Tom to her front door, towed along by his large warm hand engulfing hers. Reaching the door Tom pulled it open with a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what lay on the other side, before turning back to her in the open doorway, cool morning air swirling around her bare feet and ankles.  
She clutched the aqua silk to her chest, and looked up only three or 4 inches into his eyes, the morning light constricting his pupils, the light blue-green of his irises burning through, honest regret in his face. Tom reached for both her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

“I really must go…” making no attempt to turn and walk away down the garden path.

She glanced behind him the sunlit spring garden, the riot colors, of tulips and daffodils and lilac glowing in the early morning light. Her gaze flicked back to Tom, the morning sun halo-ing his red-gold hair, picking gold glints in the stubble along his cheek, much as she had seen him at the Riverside Café – minus the creases and shadows of fatigue. She couldn’t help but smile at him, at how pretty he is.

She reached to touch his face. Tom tipped his head and rubbed his cheek against her palm. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes to look at her, his eyes bright with more than the morning light.

“Suzanna. I don’t know what my schedule is like yet, I have no idea where I will be in the next few days, or how many hours I’ll be working yet. I…I’m not free. But can I… may I call you?”

She watched him chew the inside of his lip as he waited for her answer. She spent a moment contemplating that. She had sort of assumed that when he left he’d be gone, never considering that he might continue contact. But here he was, asking if he could call her.

She blinked, the stray thoughts crossing her mind that she might…embark… on an affair.

Her chin jerked out a nod, her wide eyes watching him. Tom smiled broadly, reaching to cup her face with both hands.

“Good. Darling, thank you for a wonderful meal and a lovely evening.”

His thumbs slid across her cheekbones and he leaned to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, one hand gently cradling her head, the other sliding into her robe, gently caressing her breast. Her hand wrapped around his wrist, the strong bone and tendon imprinting themselves on her palm.

Tom broke the kiss, breathing out hard and tipping his forehead against hers in silent communication. Kissing her forehead, he stepped back and dropped his hands away from her.

“I’ll call you, yeah? It might be a few days…” Suzanna nodded.

“All right, Tom. Go forth and do good work!” She smiled. He sent her a dazzling smile and turned to walk down the path, watching her over his shoulder. Reaching the gate, he looked up in surprise, and then astonishment.

Tom stared at the woman standing in shock just on the other side of the waist high gate. Tall and slim, long dark hair showing many premature strands of silver, whiskey brown eyes where he might have expected green, dark winged brows, and a turquoise eyebrow piercing.

The woman’s eyes went over Tom’s shoulder and widened. Tom glanced behind himself at Suzanna leaning on the open door frame, pulling the aqua silk closed over her chest. She turned her gaze back to his.

Tom bent and pulled the gate open for her, standing aside for her to walk through. He turned on the other side of the gate, pulling it shut behind him. He nodded with a smile.

“Good morning, Amanda.” He said politely. She blinked at him.

“Um. Good morning?” A small mischievous smile lit the corner of his mouth as he nodded and turned away, striding off in the direction of his hotel. He glanced over his shoulder one last time and saw Amanda stepping up onto the porch.

“Holy fuck, Mother!!” clearly reached his ears as Suzanna’s amused eyes looked up towards his. She sent him a little shoo-ing motion and turned to let her daughter into her house, closing the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. If you got this far, there's the little kudos button..


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